


Rehearsal

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Face-Sitting, Jedi Are Allowed to Marry, Public Consummation as Part of Wedding Ceremony, Simulated Exhibitionism, Traditional Jedi Wedding Ceremonies, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Rehearsal (of Sorts), You May Now Fuck the Bride (sorry not sorry)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24924247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: The Jedi have granted Anakin Skywalker permission to wed Padmé Amidala, provided that they agree to a traditional solemn and meditative wedding ceremony. The catch?Public consummation.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	Rehearsal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).



"I can't believe this." Anakin was still pacing back and forth in her office, his hair unkempt from running his fingers through it for the last few minutes. Padmé couldn't really complain about how his hair _looked,_ and she understood his frustration with the situation. She'd been rather taken aback, too, but none of that changed the fact that he was overreacting.

"I agree, it's a little unorthodox-"

"A _little?"_

"-but we'll be _married._ You're always saying that you wish we didn't have to sneak around and keep so many secrets." She took his hands, and squeezed. "This is our _chance_ , Ani." His features softened, and he kissed her hand, barely grazing her knuckles with his lips.

"Of course I still want to marry you. I would be _thrilled_ to marry you. It's just-" He gestured awkwardly. Padmé sighed. There was no point in beating around the bush.

"Public consummation." Anakin turned his gaze downwards, as if he suddenly suspected Count Dooku or some other Separatist may in fact be hiding under the sole of his boot.

"It sounds so clinical when you put it like that."

"Alright then - we'll be _making love_ in front of the High Council of the Jedi Order. Don't be so coy, Ani, it's only _me_. I know it's strange, but we can talk this over - we'll work something out."

"I- _Obi-Wan_ _will be there!"_ Anakin put his head in his hands, the very _thought_ of it proving too much for him.

"Yes, and something tells me he'll be just as uncomfortable as you." She paused for a moment, brows knitting together in a neat formation that was so typically Padmé. "Would a blindfold make you feel more comfortable?"

"A-" Anakin flushed, and started fidgeting with the cuff of one of his gloves. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. I've spent so much of my life acting and putting on performances for strangers. Admittedly never something quite so..."

"Intrusive?" Her laugh was like warm honey in black tea - it masked the bitterness beneath. Padmé didn't regret her term as Queen. To serve Naboo as Amidala was a great honour, and she felt similarly about her role as senator. But it was natural to have some mixed feelings, when one's life had been a series of intrusions, invasions or illusions, one after the other. The only difference this time would be that her nakedness was literal rather than figurative.

"I was going to go with 'weird'." At least that earned her an almost-smile. "Though, you know, the Senate _can_ get pretty weird at times…"

"Well, as long as no one's asking you to take your clothes off."

"Not yet. I'm _joking,_ Ani!" Padmé batted his prosthetic arm playfully, and let him sweep her into an embrace, spinning her round before they fell back against her desk. She pulled him closer to brush her lips against his earlobe, and lowered her voice. "When I had speeches to deliver before the people of Naboo - or even now with the Senate - I _rehearsed_ them. Either with my handmaidens, or a friend...or on my own." If Anakin hadn't caught onto what she was suggesting already, he certainly did when her hand drifted downwards.

"Now? _Here?"_ Padmé wasn't sure if he looked more horrified or _hopeful_ at that idea. It wasn't as though they'd never fooled around in her office before, but those particular trysts had never progressed beyond kissing, groping, and occasional wandering hands (usually hers).

"Are you coming around to the thrill of, at least _potentially_ , being watched?" The door was securely locked, and they both knew it, but she couldn't resist teasing her husband-to-be, just a little. It was too easy, and his exaggerated expression of mock-outrage was too funny. "I meant at the apartment. I'll need to set the stage, so to speak." Anakin sighed, but gently cupped her cheeks before pressing his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Padmé laughed again, and this time it was all clear, sweet honey.

"And yet I _know_ you'll be there when i get home." Anakin smirked.

"You're damn right I will."

* * *

Apartment was a drab word for what was actually a rather grand penthouse suite in the Senate Apartment Complex, with wide windows and a balcony overlooking the sprawling ecumenopolis. At least, it was dazzling to someone who had lived out their childhood and adolescence on a backwater desert planet and a Jedi temple, respectively.

Anakin busied himself with Padmé's personal datapad while he waited for her to return, wondering if he could find out anything else about Jedi wedding customs on the holonet. Obi-Wan had quipped that he hadn't expected the Council to be giving Anakin _that_ kind of a dressing down, which at the time had been infuriating, but in hindsight had probably been a genuine attempt at lightening the mood. He was just being so _Obi-Wan_ about it. Needless to say, anything discussed beyond that point had been unhelpfully vague. He could have asked Ki-Adi-Mundi, but he really, _really_ didn't want to ask Ki-Adi-Mundi.

When he heard the transparisteel doors _whoosh_ open, Anakin sat down on the plush, yellow-gold couch, trying to look casual. The illusion was somewhat spoiled when he fumbled and dropped the datapad, upon realising precisely the kind of vids his holonet search had produced. When Padmé walked in and saw it land on the navy carpet with a soft thud, she merely raised an eyebrow. Thank the _Force_ it had landed screen-down.

"Anakin Skywalker," she smirked, hands on hips, "have you been watching pornography on _my_ datapad?"

"No!" He sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair, aware that he did _not_ sound convincing.

"Uh-huh. So why are you hiding the screen?"

"What? I-" He stopped when Padmé gave him a _look._ There was no hiding this from her, and no real reason to, aside from the fact it was supremely _embarrassing._ "I...was looking for information about the ceremony, and...you know." He made a vague gesture that only Padmé (or possibly Obi-Wan, and hopefully _not_ Ahsoka) could decipher. She grinned a little sheepishly.

"Ah, yes. I, um, ran into that problem myself." Anakin leaned back onto the couch, feeling slightly less awkward knowing it wasn't just the kind of thing that happened to him.

"Did you... _watch_ any of them?" She gave an exaggerated wink.

"They're actually pretty informative. Well, _some_ of them are." Anakin snorted, but had to admit his interest was piqued. Partly about the ceremony itself. _Mostly_ about the extent of Padmé's 'research'.

"Care to enlighten me?"

"I can do better." She carefully removed the pins in her hair and the crushed velvet cape, revealing her bare shoulders. "I believe I promised you a rehearsal, of sorts."

Anakin had rather liked the sound of that - at least until she brought up a three-dimensional image of the Jedi High Council and an audio featuring a low, meditative chant, in place of music. He'd been expecting it, but that didn't make it any easier.

"Did you have to pick _that_ image?" Mace Windu's eyes seemed to follow him around the room, and even in image form, Obi-Wan was still being terribly Obi-Wan about the whole affair. He couldn't quite decide which was more off putting.

"Yes." Anakin shuffled awkwardly against the desk as Padmé began to help him out of his own clothes, her soft hands lingering on his chest a few moments longer than was necessary. He closed his eyes, and let himself breathe. She stopped him as he nodded towards the bed, tapping the desk behind him - ah, of _course._ Whoever had originally come up with the idea for this wedding ceremony had been far too miserly to incorporate something as comfortable as a _bed_ , or even a mattress. Instead, they'd be making love on a stone altar. Somehow, he doubted they'd had comfort in mind at all.

Anakin was beginning to understand why so _few_ of the Jedi had bothered with the formal marriage ceremony, and had simply cohabited with their partners. Aayla and Kit seemed to have a good thing going on. But once the prospect of marriage was on the desk- _table_ , the Force had revealed Padmé's excitement and exhilaration mingling with his own. He felt that again now, tinged with a nervousness that hadn't been there before.

Then Padmé handed him the blindfold.

"We don't have to use it," she said quickly, "but if you'd like to try...it might help. You might even _like_ it." Anakin nodded. He would still be able to sense the presence of the other Jedi through the Force, but at least this way he wouldn't unintentionally catch anyone's eye. Normally they'd have begun with embracing and kissing, and a nice, healthy amount of fingers combing through hair. But there'd be no time for that during the ceremony, and so for now they shared only one chaste kiss.

After perching on the edge of the desk for Padmé to tie the blindfold, he swung his legs around to lie on his back. Hopefully the altar would be a little more accommodating for someone of his height. Padmé wasted no time before getting up there and straddling his face, sighing as Anakin gently parted the labia to slide his tongue over her clit, with long, broad strokes.

Deprived of the view, and with her muscular thighs crushed against his ears, muffling that ubiquitous chant, Anakin found himself drenched with her sweet, earthy taste and scent, and felt every buck and quiver of her hips with an aching intensity. When she grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged hard, he didn't need to see or hear her to know she was close. He held her thighs to steady her as she came, grinding down faster and harder. When Padmé was finally ready to move back and give him some air, it was not unlike the first, clear breath after a powerful thunderstorm.

"You still okay down there?" Anakin licked his lips, savouring the taste.

"Yeah. You okay with the, um, _audience?"_ With his assistance, Padmé shimmied down until her hips met his, grinding against his cock. Her breath was warm on his neck as she leaned forward.

"For _some_ reason, I wasn't really paying attention. Shaak Ti looks like she's enjoying the show-"

"Padmé!" She laughed, no doubt smirking at the blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, and the way his cock twitched against her inner thigh.

"I was going to apologise...but I get the feeling you kind of _liked_ the idea of that." She wasn't wrong. Inexplicably, he _did_ kind of like it. The notion of Shaak Ti appreciating Padmé's body and expressing her enjoyment of Padmé's pleasure was both intoxicating and confusing, provoking none of the jealousy Anakin had expected. He moaned as Padmé slowly - almost _painfully_ slowly - lowered herself onto his cock, meeting his thrusts with her own in a practised rhythm. "Is it because it's Shaak Ti? She _is_ very beautiful. Or-"

"Because it's _you,_ " he breathed, nearing his own climax already, "always _you_." His fingers skimmed up and down her sides, tracing the outline of her body to form her image in his mind. At least until he gave in and ripped off the blindfold, momentarily dazzled by the shock of bright light, and then by Padmé herself. His fingernails dug into her right hip when he came, his entire lower body convulsing in an erratic rhythm until his legs went limp and Padmé flopped down on top of him.

"That went well," he grinned up at Padmé, "all things considered."

"I'm not so sure, Ani. I think perhaps we ought to practise the timings a little more. You know...just to make sure we get it absolutely _perfect_ on the day."

"Mmm, maybe you're right." Padmé shifted her weight, seemingly unbothered by the thin sheen of sweat between them.

"I'm always right." Anakin couldn't argue with that. The seven days before their wedding certainly wouldn't be boring. He glanced sideways, accidentally locking eyes with holo-image Obi-Wan, and groaned. "What's wrong, Ani?" He reached out with the Force to hit the off switch, and the blue-tinged image flickered and died. He turned to smile at his soon-to-be wife.

"Nothing, Padmé. Nothing at all."


End file.
